So there they were, the four of them, in that bar, cursing their luck and settling into failure like it was their most comfortable pair of ratty jeans, watching the pathetic embers of their fool’s dreams grow dimmer each day, when they got the word. Teddy Pravitz was back in town.

Teddy was the slick one who got out from under it all, who left Philly for the far coast and was making his life happen. He had become something of a legend among them, less flesh and blood, more avatar of the success that had eluded them. They never had gone west to find him, never were certain exactly what he was up to, but they all were sure he had done better than had they. And now he was back. They figured he had come home to toss off a quick hello, for old times’ sake, had only returned for a shot and a beer and a howdy doody, glad we knew you. But they were wrong.

He strode into the bar like a foreign potentate. There were heys and hurrahs, slapped backs and spilt beer. Teddy Pravitz was back in town. He bought them a round and then another, he flashed that smile, flashed a wad, he preened. There was something shaggy about him, something California, like the Philly had been burned out of him by the West Coast sun. You half expected he’d be surfing down Broad Street, what with the smile and the colorful hippie vest. He had come through a portal from another place entirely, a place with lights and banners, with a mystique he brought back with him. He was blinding.

They slid together into a booth in the rear, the five of them, together again. And the four that had gotten stuck in the city of their birth, well, they had their questions, but he was short with his answers.

Where you been, Teddy? Around. You married? Nah. Working? Hardly. Getting any? More than I can handle. You back for good? Just for a while. Any reason? Sure. Another round, Teddy, my man? On me. So come on, tell us. Why are you back?

“Boys,” he said, finally, his eyes shining. “Boys, I’m back for one reason and one reason only. To give you all one last chance to save your lives, one last chance at redemption.”

“FUNNY,” I SAID, “you guys don’t look redeemed.”

“That’s the point,” said Joey. “Thirty years later we’re still here, busted like a fat lip, still trying to make it happen.”

“But the painting was only a part of the haul taken from the Randolph Trust. There was plenty of other stuff taken, jewels and gold and even some cash. You guys must have done pretty damn well.”

They didn’t answer, Little Joey and Big Ralph, instead they stared mournfully at their beer mugs. With a quick snatch, Joey downed the rest of his beer and emptied the pitcher into his mug and snatched that down, too.

“What happened to it all?” I said.

“We got some,” said Joey. “Our piece of the cash.”

“And the rest?”

“Disappeared,” said Ralph.

“How?”

“Does it matter?”

“What we’re here to talk about now,” said Joey, “is making it back. Fish comes up to us. He knows we know Charlie from way back. He knows we might have some influence on him, being we are old friends and all of us were once thick as weasels.”

“Who made the offer?” I said.

“Does it matter?” said Ralph.

“Yeah, it does.”

“Fish wants it confidential. But the offer is enough to get us interested. And let me say it’s enough to get us a little pissed if it don’t come off like the fish, he says.”

“A little pissed, huh?”

“Yeah. So that’s the story. Tell Charlie we got ourselves a fish on the line and we all want a share of the eating. Tell him fair is fair. Tell him that the baseball bats are out.”

“Is that a threat, Joey?” I said.

“No, no, you got me all wrong,” said Joey. “I’m just like Charlie: nice. Aren’t I nice, Ralph?”

“He’s nice.”

“It’s just that we haven’t played ball in a while and we want to get us up another game. Like old times. You tell Charlie about the baseball bats, and he’ll understand.”

“Okay, I got the message,” I said. “You hear again from your fish, you give me a call.” I handed each of them one of my cards. “Did you tell anyone else about the offer?”

“Just a few interested parties.”

“Like?”

“Your father.”

“Okay. From here on in, you keep him out of it. Anyone else?”

“Charlie’s mom.”

I closed my eyes, shook my head. “You guys are more stupid than you let on.”

“We’re covering our bases here, Victor.”

“More like you’re covering your graves. Now, before I do anything, I need to know this fish you have on the line is the real thing and not just blowing little bubbles out his butt.”

“Oh, he’s the real thing,” said Joey.

“How do you know?”

“He gave us a taste. A clean pair of Bens to each of us just for talking.”

“You mind if I take a look?”

“Mine, unfortunately, are already gone. Expenses and such. I had a tab, you see.”

“Oh, I bet you did. How about you, Ralph? You got any of those bills left?”

Ralph reached into this pants pocket, pulled out a gold money clip with some sort of a medallion on it, drew out the wad, unfolded it.

“Aw, man,” said Joey, “you been holding out on me. Didn’t I just ask you for a tenner?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t have it,” said Ralph as he plucked from the wad two hundred-dollar bills.

The bills he handed me were new and crisp, like they had been dealt from a thick stack fresh from the mint. I waved them below my nose, taking in the newly printed scent of the inks. And something else. I sniffed them again, more deeply this time. Something flowery, something precious. Son of a bitch.

Lavender Hill.

“Victor Carl here.”

“Hello, Victor. How pleasant to hear your sweet voice. You left a message on my cell?”

“Lavender?”

“’Tis I.”

“Lav, dude, you’re killing me.”

“Oh, Victor, let’s be clear about a few things. First of all, I am not and never have been a dude. Put the skateboard away and remember that you are on the far side of sixteen. As for the second part of your execrable sentence, the part about my killing you, rest assured it could be arranged.”

“Not amusing.”

“How gratifying, because it is not my goal in life to amuse you. Those we find amusing are not taken seriously, and let me caution you, Victor, I may twitter and chirp, but you need to take me, my offer, and my concerns, very seriously. There have been inquiries about my person in the city of my current residence. I find that quite distasteful.”

“You didn’t think I’d check you out?”

“I had hoped you’d show a bit more discretion. But it was almost as if your man doing the inquiries wanted word to get out that I was being looked at. Victor, there is an element of public humiliation in such an inquiry that sets my teeth to grinding. Tell your investigator to cut it out, boy, or I’ll find something else to cut.”

“You know, Lav, you’re a lot less genial over the phone.”

“I am not happy with you, and it is too much of strain to be genial when one is not happy. Bad for the skin.”

“Well, color me unhappy, too, Lav, dude. Because I met up with Joey and Ralph today. Remember them? The two old guys you collared one night and gave a couple hundred each, in hard cash that smells suspiciously of your precious scent?”

“How impolitic of them to show you the bills, and how clever of you to notice. I suppose I’ll have to do something about that.”

“The two old men left me with the impression that you were trying to bypass my client and buy the painting from them.”

“What did you expect, Victor? I’ve been pining for you, and yet there was no word, no message, nothing. I have been feeling ever so unrequited.”

“I haven’t been able to talk to my client since our meeting. He’s on the run, he’s not easily accessible.”